“Smelled her.” I nod. “Of course.”
A deep rumble vibrates through the air, low and warning. His long neck coils then stretches toward the earth, gaze darting toward the far end of the field.
Slowly, he backs away, the ground trembling with each step, his wings unfurling like a banner of fire and shadow.
I watch him go, a strange sense of satisfaction sweeping through me.
With one last glance back at the Flying Grounds I take off toward the main campus.
When the spires of Rathe University rise into view, I angle toward the eastern promenade, following the path of lanternssuspended in a lazy arc of floating chains. These weren’t here on my way out, but it’s clearly a path meant to be followed.
Something in my chest pulls tight, like an invisible hand curling inward and urging me elsewhere.
I flip the codex to the map, and ink appears, shifting into lines, the campus sketching itself alive beneath my fingertips. Glowing faintly at the border of the Fae Conservatory is the royal gateway.
Not twenty feet from where I’m standing, and the opposite pathway of the lanterns.
I step off the path and the lanterns flicker and die as I follow where the codex wants to lead—Creed has said that was the whole point of it, right? Like it knows best or some shit.
And there it is. Tucked beyond a curtain of hanging willow branches sits an archway, small enough to miss unless you’re looking straight at it. Gods, it’s beautiful.
Vines of gold and black curl around its frame like veins beneath translucent skin, pulsing faintly, responding to the magic of the campus like a heartbeat. Flowers shaped like falling stars cling to the arch, their petals luminescent and dripping soft sparks into the grass.
And carved deep into the stone lintel, so delicate it could’ve been etched by a whisper: Deveraux.
I step closer, breath drawing slow and uneven. Some instinct in me paces against my ribs, urging caution while another thrums with…curiosity.
“Well, well,King Creed,” I murmur, reaching out. “That’s a half a point for you. But let’s see if there is a lie in there somewhere.”
The moment my fingertips graze the wood, pain snaps up my arm, sharp and electric.
I hiss through my teeth and shake out my hand, then place my palm back against the surface.
This time the burn is instant, searing across my skin like abrand, heat licking up my wrist like molten gold poured beneath the bone, but I don’t pull away. I lean in. Dare it.
The fire climbs hotter and I nearly crumble to my knees when it suddenly drops.
Ice floods outward, freezing the surface beneath my palm, crawling up my veins like frost gripping a windowpane. I gasp and yank back, flexing my fingers as white steam curls from my skin.
“What the fu—”
A whisper cuts across the air, footsteps following.
I focus but don’t move, listening.
Three, maybe four, closing in.
One breath.
A second.
I pivot, hands already finding the dagger at my thigh as figures slide from the shadows between the trees. All students here at Rathe U, each one wearing expressions carved from suspicion to hate.
One steps forward, the wind whirling around her wrist.
“There she is,” she spits. “The Exile rat.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Must’ve taken all of you to come up with that one. Impressive.”
